Surprise
by mcabby80
Summary: There's no end to Jimmy's talents - or is there?


_**A/N: This is a silly little drabble for my lovely tumblr friends, esp. lizzzzzyyyyyy! ;)**_

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><p>"I didn't know you could draw, Jimmy," Thomas said, a little irritated. He continued tapping his fingers against the headboard of his bed, wondering why Jimmy had to indulge in his newfound hobby <em>now of all times <em>when the only thing Thomas wanted was to enjoy what was left of Christmas Eve. And he wanted to spend it with his best friend, not with a mute, impassive figure at the other end of the bed.

"You don't know a lot of things about me, Thomas," Jimmy told him without looking up from the paper in his lap. His left hand was flying busily over the drawing and the tip of his tongue stuck out at the corner of his mouth in silent concentration.

Thomas stared, momentarily mesmerized, before blinking the sensation away. Jimmy's pink tongue was something to fantasize about _later,_ when Jimmy would have gone back to his own room.

"And as you said yourself, _there's no end to my talents_". Though Jimmy's lips curved up slightly at the memory, Thomas felt a pang of remorse in the pit of his stomach. He cleared his throat.

"So are you quite done yet? Let me have a look!" He asked nosily, leaning forward to maybe sneak a peek. After all, he ached to know what it was Jimmy was drawing.

"Not yet." Jimmy absently shook his head. Thomas rubbed a hand across his face and groaned into his palm. "Do you want some more wine then?" he asked, seeming impatient.

Jimmy glanced up at him for a fleeting second and murmured something like, "No, I need a clear head tonight," before dropping his eyes back to the drawing and chewing at the end of his pencil.

"Clear head on Christmas Eve, you're a funny one," Thomas grumbled as he reached down for the bottle on the floor and took a large sloppy swallow. _Clear head, my arse. _He snorted against the cool rim of the bottle, disappointed. Somehow he had hoped the both of them would get rather _drunk_ tonight and, after mocking Carson and the rest of the staff, Jimmy would fall asleep against his shoulder, as he did sometimes. Thomas would wrap his arm around him then, nose buried into rumpled blond hair, and hold him for long precious minutes. Maybe hours, with a bit of luck. Well, this plan was obviously out the window.

For a while, Thomas simply let his eyes wander over Jimmy's figure, unobserved and thankful for it. _A penny for every stolen glance at him and I could retire tomorrow,_ he thought to himself. It's not funny, not really, but Thomas chuckled all the same, obviously amused at his own wit.

"You're wearing a new shirt, Jimmy. Looks expensive," he teased.

"It wasn't," Jimmy said, so quickly, Thomas didn't even have to see the flush in his ears to know he was lying. And if the expression on his face was anything to go by, Jimmy _knew_ that Thomas knew.

"Um…not _that_ expensive anyway. And today's a _very special_ day." Jimmy shifted until he sat cross-legged on the bed, eyeing his work with a pleased expression. He shut his eyes, then, and took a deep breath, gathering himself for a moment before finally holding the drawing above his head. Jimmy coughed nervously and licked his lips, eyes on Thomas's face. The pink in his cheeks had visibly deepened.

Thomas blinked, waiting for what was to come, but Jimmy only stared back at him and nodded once.

The underbutler's brow furrowed in confusion. "If that's supposed to be a paper hat, you have to fold it first, Jimmy."

That was very clearly not what the footman wanted to hear since Thomas was rewarded with the 'Jimmy-scowl-of-death'.

"It's not a bloody paper hat! Look at the drawing, for God's sake!" Jimmy hissed, his mouth trembling.

Thomas moved closer and tilted his head to the side.

Oh. _Oh. _Well, maybe there _was_ an end to Jimmy's talents, after all. Torn between laughing and feeling truly sorry for his friend, Thomas forced a polite smile. He realized that now was probably the time to say something nice.

"Yes, that's um…very _nice,_" he told Jimmy, hesitation in his voice.

It really _wasn't_.

"Nice," Jimmy echoed, flatly. "That's all?"

Thomas looked up again only to see Jimmy's face crumble. He suddenly looked very small.

"Jimmy, it's fine, really, but I just don't understand why you'd put the drawing of a broom on your head. If this is a joke, I'm afraid I don't get it, sorry," Thomas explained, apologetically raising his hands.

At that, Jimmy's expression darkened. "That's not a…a _broom_, you stupid moron!" He exclaimed angrily and kicked Thomas's thigh before throwing the paper on the bed with a disparaging huff.

"Right," Thomas drawled coolly. He was used to Jimmy throwing a little fit every now and then. "So what is it then?"

…

"Jimmy?"

The footman started biting his nails causing Thomas to crinkle his nose in disgust.

"It's a … miss…hoe," he mumbled tensely against his fingertips.

"Miss _who_? Say again?"

Jimmy sighed, looking anywhere but Thomas's face.

"A mistletoe," he muttered, cheeks aflame.

"But why would you put a - Oh." Thomas said, all the blood leaving his face when it hit him like a train. Jimmy Kent wanted a _kiss_. But more importantly, Jimmy Kent wanted a kiss from _him_. The thought was as absurd as it was beautiful andThomas felt his eyes flutter shut, a million different emotions flooding him. Not all were pleasant though.

"Yes, _oh_." Jimmy huffed. "Believe it or not, that's not exactly the reaction I was hoping for."

"Is it not?" Thomas asked a little wryly. "Maybe that's because you told me you can _never_ give me what I want and that we can only be friends. And that's what we are Jimmy, _friends_."

Thomas swallowed. His voice came out steadier than he thought possible. "So now you think you can just put this _thing_ on your head that, by the way, still looks like a broom and I will kiss you, _again_, like the pretty prince you are? And then what?"

Jimmy gaped at him, his face an alarming red.

"Then _what_, Jimmy?" Thomas pressed.

And that was the moment he could watch Jimmy fall apart, fall into the abyss of profound humiliation and desperation and for some torturous seconds Thomas saw himself, standing in the darkness of Jimmy's room, reaching out to love. Even after all this time, Thomas wasn't able to forget the unexpected rejection and the harsh cutting words that had fallen from Jimmy's mouth that night. And the terrible feeling of not being able to breathe.

"I thought it's Christmas and…and I wanted to tell you," Jimmy began, his voice quivering with emotion, "I finally wanted to tell you, Thomas. God, this is so not going the way I planned." He blinked rapidly and the helplessness on his face warmed Thomas's heart.

"Well I'm not going to kiss you, Jimmy. Not _this_ time," Thomas said quietly.

"I'm not thick, Thomas, I think I got that," Jimmy sniffled.

"To be honest, I don't think you did," Thomas replied, trying to suppress a smirk. "Look at me."

But instead of doing so, Jimmy turned away from Thomas, covering his face in his hands. "I can't. I made a fool of myself," he choked, the words muffled against his palms. "It's because I thought you still felt the same way, I- I really did. Oh god, I'm such an idiot. I was so sure Thomas, I-" Jimmy's voice broke and Thomas knew he was crying.

In a way, his friend's tears hurt him, of course, but at the same time they felt strangely purifying, _relieving_ even, like the first rain after a long summer's drought.

"Just look at me, Jimmy." Thomas's voice was soft and warm now and when Jimmy eventually glanced up at him with tear-rimmed eyes, Thomas smiled, the drawing balancing awkwardly on his head.

"I hate making a fool of myself, too, so hurry up. I've got a bloody broom on my head," he said, forcing lightness into his voice.

That was all it took: in a flash, Jimmy crawled up the bed and straddled him. "You!" Jimmy accused, gently brushing his forehead to Thomas's.

"Well, hello there!" Thomas murmured and lightly rubbed his nose against Jimmy's. The drawing floated carelessly to the ground, but it didn't matter. Thomas found that nothing in the whole world mattered when Jimmy sat on his lap like he did, smiling at him with that bright sparkle in his eyes. Sweet anticipation ran through Thomas like wildfire when Jimmy placed a hand on his cheek and whispered, "God, you're so - so …"

"Kissable?" The underbutler wiggled a brow, laughing quietly and Jimmy wet his lips.

"Yeah, that too."

In his chest, Thomas's heart was thrumming away as he stared at Jimmy's little red mouth. He wiped a sweaty hand against the covers. "I hope you kiss better than you draw," Thomas muttered against Jimmy's tear-stained face, humming in pleasure when the blond slid a lazy hand into his hair.

"I'd like to think so, Mr. Barrow," Jimmy breathed while his left hand traveled slowly down Thomas's chest. In response, two strong arms wrapped around Jimmy's waist.

"Go on then," Thomas challenged with a little grin, "surprise me."

And surprise Jimmy did.

All night long.


End file.
